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In the Manor’s library's quiet, I curl up in an armchair that seems soaked in Jaden's presence. Maybe he's never been here, but it feels like he has. So, here I am, doing mental gymnastics over what to do next.
I replay that heart-ripping moment with Jaden, but deep down, I know I played myself. He was upfront about not doing love or commitment. His reputation and those overheard conversations had warned me. Yet, seeing him with someone else was like a punch to the gut, reigniting jealousy and betrayal.
Being away from him let me see things clearer. It wasn't just about him nearly choking me; it's how he made me feel overall. After bolting from that scene, I found strength I didn't know I had. As I lay there, this new power inside whispered, "Heal yourself." So, I did, tapping into something amazing that's part of me now.
I realized too late why Jaden flipped out—I'd startled him, breaking one of his cardinal rules. After calming down, I did some Googling and, yep, classic PTSD behavior. I had been setting off alarms left and right with him.
Fueled by my newfound knowledge and power, I went to make things right, only to slam into the harsh truth of where I stood with him. Him with that blonde on his lap crushed me. He'd said he was saving kisses for someone he loved, which clearly wasn't her, but it didn't matter. I felt invisible.
I had to shut him out, cut the bond right then. My first instinct was revenge—show him two can play this game. But even as I flirted with the idea, following him out with her made my decision. Our eyes locked, and I saw his pain before he hid it. I wanted to hurt him back, but I couldn't. I fled, wishing tears could wash away the pain.
Clutching the carved tablet from the coffee table in our suite, I called out for help and suddenly, I was in this mysterious house. The ghost, Nye, from those vivid dreams of mine, welcomed me, suggesting I make myself at home. So, here I am, diving into diaries, dodging reality, while this cool old dude, Raphael, keeps me fed.
After days lost in the sanctuary Nye and Raphael provided, immersing myself in the past through the diaries of strangers, I can't ignore the nagging feeling that Jaden's in trouble. Another wave of nausea hits, and I force myself to breathe through it. "He's in deep, and that witch Tempest is circling. You've gotta see him," Nye's voice breaks through my thoughts. I study her, my head and heart swimming with questions I can’t focus on right now. She’s right and I can’t avoid the inevitable. There’s some force in me that’s pulling me to him, at least until I understand why he’s trying so desperately to push me away.
With heavy reluctance, I return to our suite. The suite's tension is a sharp contrast to the library's quiet as I step through the portal. Jaden’s on the floor, curled up and looking so lost and small, a complete mess. And Tempest is just . . . there, watching like she’s at some weird show at the zoo. I ignore her, focusing on Jaden. The shock of his pain hits me hard, but I breathe through it, sitting down to face him and his demons head-on.
My heart does this weird flip-flop seeing him like this, and all I want is to be by his side, to try and fix whatever’s tearing him up inside. I barely notice Tempest as I make my way to Jaden, feeling more determined with every step. As I get closer, I see just how much he’s hurting, and it makes my resolve even stronger. I sit down in front of him, ready to face whatever comes my way.
I don’t say anything at first, just focus on making our connection stronger, letting him feel that I’m here for him, no matter what. This whole superpower thing is still new to me, but figuring that out can wait. Right now, Jaden needs to know I’m all in, ready to listen and not judge. He has to feel that my heart’s wide open for him.
As our eyes finally meet, the depth of his pain nearly overwhelms me, a vivid testament to the turmoil within. "You came," he whispers, his voice a mix of surprise and something akin to hope.
"I'm here.” I let the weight of those words carrying more than just my physical presence. I yearn to reach out, to comfort through touch, but restraint holds me back. The air between us thickens with his silent struggle, and I can almost taste his remorse.
"What do you want from me?" When he finally manages to speak again, the words are strained, as if each one costs him.
What do I want? The question echoes within me, finding answers ready and waiting. "I want to know how you feel about me. Not as something transient for your bed, but as me, Rayne." My words hang in the air, heavy with the need for his honesty. I draw in a breath, shutting out Tempest's invasive energy, focusing solely on Jaden. "I want to understand us."
Silence stretches, a test of patience and nerve. Just as doubt creeps in, he speaks, "I can't define or even identify my feelings for you . . . or even for myself." His admission cuts deep, a raw, unguarded moment. "You're not a plaything to me.” His gaze lifts to mine, haunted yet sincere. "I thought . . . perhaps we were friends."
My next words catch in my throat, "But you kissed her. You said..." My heart hangs as I replay the betrayal I felt so keenly.
He hesitates, then, "I lied. Kissing . . . it's different when it's meaningless. With you, it can never be just that." His confession is a whisper, barely audible, followed by an even softer plea, one that might not have been meant for me but resonates all the same, "Please come back."
His silent plea hangs between us, a fragile bridge over the chasm of his turmoil. The bond pulses, a lifeline that vibrates with his pain and silent request for forgiveness, for another chance. And that’s all it takes to soften my weak and wimpy heart where this man is concerned. The nasty little voice inside my head screams that I’m being a goddamned idiot by coming back to this man. But something else even deeper and more forceful lets me know I’m doing the right thing.
I shift my focus to Tempest with a penetrating glare that makes her sit straight. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Not that I’m about to give her one but I need to get her the hell out of here. The wash of relief through our bond tells me I’m doing the right thing. Tempest gathers her bag and I walk her to the front door more to make sure she gets the hell out than to stretch my legs.
As I pointedly open the door and wait for her to slip into her fuck-me boots, she looks at me and says, “What on earth did he say that would make you come back to him?” She seems flabbergasted by my decision. I stifle the first words that want to burst free—none of your fucking business, and settle on the truth. “He was honest with me.”
Shaking her head, she strolls out the door and I resist the urge to slam it after her.
Jaden hasn’t moved and inch. The silence in the room feels charged, an electric current of unsaid words and unshed tears. I pour two drinks from the pitcher of Stoli on the sideboard, the clear liquid casting warm reflections in the dim light, and place one in front of him. His eyes, when he finally raises them to mine, hold a world of regret, a silent plea for understanding that goes beyond words. The bond between us thrums with a new intensity.
Sitting across from him, I take a deep breath, our eyes locked. "I'm here," I say simply, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. "But I'm not the same person who left this room. Nor are you." The truth of my words hangs heavy between us, a recognition of the pain we've both caused and suffered.
He nods, a gesture heavy with meaning. We sit in silence, the drinks untouched, as we communicate through the bond. It's a silent acknowledgment of the hurt, the betrayal, but also of the undeniable connection that refuses to be severed by anger or fear. My heart, though guarded behind a newly erected barrier, still beats for this man. But I'm cautious now, aware of the fragility of what we're trying to rebuild.
"You understand, don't you?" I telepathically send the question, not needing to voice it aloud. "That I can't just forget what happened. That we can't go back to how things were."
His response is a slow exhale, a resignation mixed with hope. "I know. And I don't expect you to. But I also can't imagine moving forward without you in my life, in some way." Raw pain slices through every word as he forces them through the bond.
The honesty in his admission, the raw vulnerability, shifts something within me. The understanding that we can't erase what's happened hits me hard, but we still have a shot at figuring things out from here. We don't have all the answers about this crazy pull between us, but one thing's for sure—we're not ready to walk away from whatever this is.
"Friends,” I finally say, the word feeling both like a concession and a promise. "With an understanding." The drink in my hand suddenly seems more appealing, a tangible symbol of the tentative truce we're forging and I stare at it as if it’s a lifeline as I choke out the next words. “And maybe a few benefits.” Because suddenly I know with absolute certainty that sex will be the only way to pull Jaden from the bowels of the cave he’s buried himself in.
He reaches for his glass, a silent toast to our new understanding. Our eyes meet over the rim of our glasses, and in that gaze, I see a glimmer of the man I’m falling for. The man I'm willing to stand beside, even if it means keeping my heart shielded behind armor.
